


Birth Rebirth Revolution

by MiriamKenneath



Category: Berserk (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dark Magic, Dreams and Nightmares, Extremely Dubious Consent, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22152766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriamKenneath/pseuds/MiriamKenneath
Summary: Griffith, he looks…he looks…almost…pregnant–‘The egg…’ whispers Griffith.Then the contractions begin.
Relationships: Femto/Guts (Berserk), Griffith/Guts (Berserk), Griffith/Guts/Femto (Berserk)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 67
Collections: Holly Poly 2019





	Birth Rebirth Revolution

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuciferxDamien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciferxDamien/gifts).



Griffith comes to him sometimes.

It’s always in the dead of night, after everyone else has fallen asleep and they can be alone together. He moves in perfect silence, awakening Guts with a touch. He does not need to speak aloud to tell Guts what he wants, for what he wants is always the same.

That is all to the good, for Guts also wants what Griffith wants – just the same.

When Griffith slides in beside Guts, he is already naked. So is Guts. Griffith swallows his moan with a kiss as the hard lengths of their cocks slide and joust. They twist and roll and rock their hips back and forth, who will dominate determined anew during each of these secret congresses.

Tonight the victor is Guts. Griffith yields gracefully in defeat, knees bent and thighs falling open wide like the fragile, outspread wings of a moonlit moth. Pale and white. Guts slides inside of him, swift and slick and easy, until they are joined completely.

Guts grips Griffith’s cock with one hand, stroking him with the same familiar rhythm that he uses to thrust. He slides his palm along the length of Griffith’s cock, fingertips pinching and pulling at his foreskin, the pad of the thumb teasing the slit where it leaks precome, clear and shiny. Griffith moans and lifts his legs higher so that Guts can take him deeper.

Guts clenches his teeth as the pace of his thrusts quickens; Griffith is so beautiful, so perfectly yielding. There is no need to hold back or delay. Orgasm overtakes them both quickly, and as Griffith trembles beneath him, painting his own belly with thick, straight stripes of white, Guts is jerking and spurting, jerking and spurting, filling Griffith with his semen, and with…with…

No. _No._ Something is wrong.

Griffith’s come-soaked belly has become obscenely distended, unnaturally full. Guts pulls out Griffith, and a wash of unnameable fluids follows. Griffith, he looks…he looks…almost… _pregnant_ –

‘The egg…’ whispers Griffith.

Then the contractions begin.

It splits him apart as it is born, and Griffith screams like he is dying.

The crack as the egg breaks open is even louder than Griffith’s screams. It sounds like lightning striking the trunk of an oak tree; it sounds like the world is ending.

Apocalypse would sound like this.

Griffith seems to fade away mysteriously as the creature emerges, and the creature which emerges from the egg is shaped roughly like a man. But it is not human, for it has the wings of a bat and the talons of a bird of prey. And it’s _cock_ –

It rounds on Guts and falls upon him. They fight. The hard body of the creature is slimy still from its recent hatching and difficult to grip as they wrestle for dominance. Nevertheless, the dance is familiar, and Guts gasps a split second before the creature’s lips crash onto his own, tongue invading his mouth like it is territory to be claimed and conquered. The creature’s eyes are mad, but those mad eyes belong undeniably to Griffith’s.

‘G-Griffith…?! W-Why are you – ?’

He should not have allowed himself to become distracted. This time, Guts loses, and the creature claims the victory with Guts pinned flat on his back beneath it. Its cock is as inhuman as its wings and talons, and it has no foreskin sheathing the misshapen, livid flesh. The friction of it burns Guts’s hole as it rams itself inside and rearranges Guts’s entrails to make sufficient room for it. Guts roars – disbelief, protest, pain or exquisite pleasure, he isn’t sure – but the creature merely rakes his chest with its talons as it begins to thrust.

The cock inside of him undulates like a snake or a fiery whip crack with every thrust of the creature’s muscular hips. The penetration is inhumanly deep; Guts imagines the feel of its squirming in his chest, _his throat_. His vision blurs at the edges when it touches the sweetly sensitive spot which only Griffith knew how to reach, an echo, a cruel parody of fraternal love.

The creature is not human; it has inhuman stamina; and this nightmare night seems to have no end. Guts has nearly succumbed to despair when –

– the creature opens its wings with a mighty whoosh and pulls them upright. Guts stumbles, but the inhuman cock still joins them, still undulates within him, and it keeps him from falling back down on the ground. It is thickening at the base now, and thickening, and stretching Guts’s much-abused hole obscenely, and it is pumping him full, full of its seed, full of its dark, fell magic –

Now _Guts_ is the one whose belly is distended, who can hold no more, who is close, so close, too close to exploding with the burden he bears –

‘G-Griffith…please…’ he moans. Why is he pleading? Not to the creature, surely.

It is not as he fears. He does not explode, nor is his belly torn open. Nevertheless, what goes in must come out again, and come out it does, hot and viscous, first a trickle and then a flood, pouring out of him as the creature continues its thrusts, its endless ejaculation. And as for that liquid? It… _solidifies_.

‘Guts. My Guts.’

He knows the arms which wrap around him from behind. He knows the chest which presses against his back. Of course he knows the hard cock which brushes the small of his back as it is repositioned for an optimal angle of entry –

Guts roars again as the human cock joins the inhuman one inside of him. Creature in front, man behind. The two cocks thrust in unison. Once, twice. Guts roars. Sweat streams down his forehead, stinging his eyes. Thrice, again. Guts squeezes his eyes shut. Tears trickle out from the corners, clotting his lashes. Again, and _again_. Why isn’t it over yet? If only this were a dream, if only he’d wake up, if only it would end – !

Then it’s over. The creature is gone. There is only Guts and Griffith.

‘Listen to me,’ commands Griffith as he pulls heedlessly out of Guts. The sudden emptiness might hurt worse than the sex. ‘Don’t turn around, and don’t follow.’

Without Griffith, Guts collapses onto the ground. When he awakens with the first light of morning, he is completely alone.


End file.
